


Warm Like the Sunlight, Soft Like a Baby Chick

by Roundworm



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Short & Sweet, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, but blink and you’ll miss it, tom is ethereal and that’s the tea, with a tiny hint of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:47:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23263444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roundworm/pseuds/Roundworm
Summary: “Hey Scho,” Will acknowledged him with a tired hum, taking off his helmet to more comfortably lean his head back. Blake seemed to hesitate for a moment, which wasn’t entirely strange, but certainly wasn’t normal. Taking pity on Blake, Will turned his head just enough to look at him. “What’s your favorite color?”The look on Will’s face must have been particularly blank, because Blake quickly followed up with a defensive, “I was just curious! Y’know, a person’s favorite color can tell a lot about them.”
Relationships: Tom Blake/William Schofield
Comments: 6
Kudos: 94





	Warm Like the Sunlight, Soft Like a Baby Chick

Will was a bit surprised to find that Blake was already leaning against the tree when he set his kit down. The boy would usually mull around with other soldiers before eventually finding his way to Will, not the other way around. Blake looked up as he sat down next to him, looking even more curious than usual.

“Hey Scho,” Will acknowledged him with a tired hum, taking off his helmet to more comfortably lean his head back. Blake seemed to hesitate for a moment, which wasn’t entirely strange, but certainly wasn’t normal. Taking pity on Blake, Will turned his head just enough to look at him. “What’s your favorite color?”

The look on Will’s face must have been particularly blank, because Blake quickly followed up with a defensive, “I was just curious! Y’know, a person’s favorite color can tell a lot about them.” 

“More wisdom from your mother?” He asked, cocking his eyebrow. Blake nodded, a smile overtaking his face at just the mention of his family. Will’s heart melted a little, his eyebrow went back down. “Well, what do you think it is?” 

Apparently excited by the prospect of a guessing game, Blake shuffled over to get a better look (there’s not much to look at, Will thinks). He tilted his head and squinted, rubbing his chin in thought, and Will couldn’t decide whether it was adorable or incredibly uncomfortable. He avoided eye contact either way. Eventually, Blake snapped his fingers.

“Yellow!” He announced, followed by a quieter “right?” 

Yellow was absolutely not right. It couldn’t be further from right. Will much preferred a dark blue—it was calmer, deeper, like a river gently flowing through his fingers… peaceful. He opened his mouth to say so, but paused. 

Blake looked so excited to get it right. ‘It’s not like correcting him would crush his dreams’, Will told himself, ‘but…’ Heaven help him, he couldn’t possibly do anything that would disappoint Blake in even the most miniscule, inconsequential way. The boy was already in a war, that was bad enough, but to tell him that he’d guessed Will’s favorite color wrong? 

Yellow was a fine color. Sure. “How’d you know?” Is what he said instead. Blake practically glowed. God, that was so worth it.

“Well, my nan told me once, when Joe and I were visiting, that people who like yellow are fun to be around,” Fun? “But they’re also really strong and all. Plus! Yellow is a warm, soft color,” Warm and soft?? “I reckoned you needed warmth and softness every now and then, and yellow reminds you of it, so… yellow.” 

Will might drop dead right at this very moment. None of those descriptions fit him. He wasn’t fun, how could he possibly be fun? And strong? He’d never felt strong a day in his life, he was weak, a coward, able to shoot men from miles away but unable to look them in the eyes. He was cold, jagged, he was jaded, he blocked people out, he didn’t even write back to his family—he couldn’t.

He withered a bit under Blake’s gaze, which was now turning a hint concerned. Will looked up at the sky, where the sun was beginning to break through the clouds, much to his surprise. Maybe he ought to turn back now, tell Blake the truth, because the image that the boy had painted of him was clearly distorted.

When he went to do so, however, he made the mistake of looking at him again. The sun kissed each freckle on Blake’s face on its way to his hair, it tangled itself in the dark brown strands, lighting up like a halo. 

“Your nan is a smart woman.” Will sighed, dark blue seeping from his fingertips and sinking into the earth, soaking up yellow sunbeams in its place. Blake laughed.


End file.
